


Don't Run

by orphan_account



Series: Shoes!Verse [2]
Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-27
Updated: 2011-12-27
Packaged: 2017-10-28 07:00:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/305079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank wakes up and Gerard's missing - and so is his boots.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Run

Frank gave a small groan, shifting from his side onto his back, really chastising himself for buying that new amp, rather than replacing the lumpy mattress he does nothing but complain about.  
He shuffled around a little, shaking his hips about, before he froze.

Something didn't feel quite right.

It took a couple of minutes before he managed to figure out what exactly it was that was irking around the edges of his mind.

Hadn't he gone to sleep next to someone?  
Hadn't that someone been Gerard? New boyfriend and blowjob extraordinaire?

Frank leaned up on his elbows, staring down at the empty space on the mattress beside him. Yup. There were smudged red stains on what was once an ice white pillow cover from Gerard's recent dye job, and the blankets are messy and slept in.  
Frank stroked his hand across the space, frowning at the coldness.

Did Gerard leave? Why would he leave?

He fell back, flat on the bed, rubbing at his face, trying to recall the night before. They'd been at a party, right? Yeah, Mikey's friend...Bob or something. He could faintly remember doing shots from some chicks navel, and Gerard looking unimpressed, before storming out, Frank following after him, trying not to laugh at Gerard being jealous over a _girl_.  
They'd somehow found their way back to Frank's place - how, he just could not remember.   
The sex - well, he could remember that. Fuck, he could still _feel __it, he thought, squirming around a little more. His ass fucking _stung_._

So why did Gerard leave? Why wasn't he still lying next to Frank, like he did every Saturday morning after a night out, curled into that weird fetal position that Frank would somehow wrap himself around, smushing his face against Gerard's warm back. Then they wouldn't actually get out of bed until at least three in the afternoon, and spent the day curled up on Frank's sofa, watching Batman cartoons and eating dry cereal.

His nonna had warned him about this, of course. He'd always just laughed off the old proverbs and wife's tales his grandmother had told him.  
"Never give shoes as a present, bambino," she'd told him. "They'll run away from you in them."

Of course, Frank had just laughed, and nodded, rolling his eyes at his cousins.

When he'd got a job in the shoe store, he'd never thought a thing of it. Of course, then Gerard had showed up one day, all broody and confused, and Frank had like, _fell_ in those few minutes before he'd had the nerve to bounce up and offer his help.  
When he'd told his dad about how he'd met his new, artistic, attractive, fucking-amazing-in-the-sack boyfriend (okay, so maybe he had left the last part out), he'd ignored it when his father had gave him an evil smile and recited his nonna's warning.

Of course now, as Frank twisted back onto his side, eyes falling in the empty corner of the room where Gerard always kicked his boots into whenever he stayed over, he felt his stomach twist a little sickly.  
Maybe his nonna _was_ right. Like, why else would Gerard have left him? He couldn't still be mad over the stupid belly-button shots - he'd came home and fucked Frank into the mattress until he'd screamed his name so loud he was pretty sure the neighbours would be complaining. _Again._  
And it couldn't be because he'd cancelled their date last Wednesday when he'd had to work the late shift to do a stock take - he'd made up for that on the Saturday, taking Gerard out to that exhibition in New York he'd been jabbering on about for months - Frank couldn't even _think_ of the artist's name, nevermind pronounce it.

No. He couldn't think of any logical explanation as to why Gerard wasn't sleeping next to him, other than he'd been stupid and fell for a guy he'd sold shoes to. Yup.

Of course, Frank was an idiot, and didn't hear the thump outside of the bedroom door, or the muttered curse as a tall red head stumbled in the bedroom door, dressed in faded blue boxer shorts and an all stretched out Morrisey shirt, complete with bare legs and those fucking army boots.

Frank leaned up on his elbows, staring at Gerard as he bumped the door closed with his ass, two steaming mugs in his hand. He walked a few steps towards the bed before he stopped, fixing Frank with a confused look.  
"What?" He asked, brow furrowed.  
Frank shook his head, and watched as Gerard sat a Sex Pistols mug on the bedside cabinet on Frank's side, before walking over to the empty corner to kick his boots off.

"You're fucking floor is freezing," Gerard muttered, climbing into the bed, crossing his legs and setting his mug (an old faded Star Wars one that Frank had nearly thrown out before Gerard had shrieked, cradled it to his chest and given Frank such a stink eye that he'd feared for his life for a few nano-seconds) in the little dip of his legs.

Frank stared at him for a few seconds before Gerard turned his head, brow furrowed in that confused way again, and asked, "What? Is there something on my face?" He raised a hand to rub at his cheek.  
Frank almost said, "Well yes, there's red hair dye all down the side of your face," but Gerard already knew that, so instead he said, "You made coffee?"

Gerard looked at him with one eyebrow raised, "Evidently," he replied, nodding at Frank's mug. "Where did you think I was?"  
Frank bites his lip, and almost laughs, his heart rate returning to normal - huh, he hadn't even noticed the panicked pace it was thumping at in his chest.

"Nowhere," he shrugged, and let himself fall back in the bed, kinda of cursing his nonna and her stupid superstitions.  
Gerard looked at him for a second, before taking a sip of his drink. "You're a freak," he said, leaning over his side of the bed to set his beloved Star Wars mug on the floor.

"Yup," Frank sighed, and watched as Gerard shuffled down the bed slightly to curl in against Frank's shoulder, pressing a kiss to his arm.

"What was that for?" Frank asked, a small smile on his lips.  
"Nothin'," came a muttered reply, as Gerard wrapped an arm around his boyfriend's waist.

Frank looked over at the boots, abandoned in the corner, before he looked down at Gerard again, and ducked his head slightly, pressed a kiss to the top of his bright red head.  
"Love you," he whispered, heart racing slightly. He could feel Gerard's breathing hitch slightly, arm going a little slack around Frank's waist.

For a small second, Frank felt a panic rise in his chest, his nonna's words ringing through his head again, a vision of Gerard making some lame excuses as he pulled on his boots and left, never to call again-

"I love you too," Gerard breathed, eyes closed, mouth turned up ever so slightly in the corner where he spoke.

Frank let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, and nodded, pressing another kiss to Gerard's head, closing his eyes, and telling himself he really shouldn't listen to those silly wife's tales.


End file.
